


You’d Be So Nice

by So_Late_Into_the_Night



Category: Ghosts (TV 2019)
Genre: Gay, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, The Captain is Gay (Ghosts TV 2019), as in it’s clear what they’re doing but there’s no graphic descriptions, i lov him, like upper teen really, queer, the captain is gay, the teen rating is generous, they swear a lot, will tear your heart out you have been warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:22:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27246460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/So_Late_Into_the_Night/pseuds/So_Late_Into_the_Night
Summary: Havers is back from Africa and has something to confess.·A little fic for Cap and Havers. This will break your heart and I am sorry. To clarify on the age rating: I’m a teen and I’ve read filthier stuff than this in “teen” novels, but if you’re sex repulsed this might not be the fic for you. Nothing is explicitly (graphically) mentioned, but it is clear more or less what is going on.That done, if you’re one of the many many people logging on here to see Cap and Havers confess their feelings for each other, read this! I had such fun writing it. I did cry, but I always cry at them. I love them. So much.Title from a Vera Lynn song, specifically the line “you’d be so nice to come home to and love”.Edit: not sure if I got the years right, as I am not sure if France surrendering means the original invasion and occupation of Paris and Northern France by Nazi troops, or when Vichy France crumbled too. I went with the former before the latter occurred to me.
Relationships: The Captain/Lieutenant Havers (Ghosts TV 2019)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 66





	You’d Be So Nice

October 1942

“Captain, sir. Someone to see you; a Lieutenant. He says it’s of the utmost importance.”

The Captain groaned and lifted his head from his desk as the knocking persisted.

“Now? Really? Fine. Just send him in, Gertie. Thanks.”

The Captain continued to stare at his desk as the door opened. From the corner of his eye, he saw a figure in an Army uniform step in and close the door behind him. When the bolt clicked across, the Captain looked up in surprise, and was immediately hit by another wave of surprise, like a freight train.

“Havers,” he gasped.

Havers nodded, smiling shyly. “Sir.”

“Oh, Havers, I had no word from you — I assumed the worst —”

“Calm down, sir. I know you can get worked up at unexpected things.”

The Captain rose out of his chair, babbling. “Havers, you look thin. Worn out. You’re tanned, too. Lord, you are thin. Have a biscuit1. Have a cup of tea. I have a pot of it here.”

He poured a cup for Havers, added the splash of milk, and handed it to him. Havers nodded gratefully and held the cup, warming his hands, then sat down on the desk, and indicated the single chair to the Captain. The Captain sat down, facing Havers, his chair drawn back so that his knees would not brush Havers’s calves.

“I assumed the worst,” he said again, his voice hollow.

“I know, sir.”

The room was quiet.

“I assumed… you were gone. That I had seen all I would ever see of you.”

“I know, sir. I thought so too, a few times.”

“You were in danger?” the Captain asked, panic rising in his voice.

“I was in a war, sir. Of course it was dangerous.”

“Yes, yes of course. Naturally,” the Captain said, smiling awkwardly.

“But I did get shot, sir. In the thigh.”

The Captain glanced at Havers’s thigh, then looked back up.

“Does it hurt?”

“No. It does not. It has healed, but I am unfit for service on the front, _apparently_. Too stiff.”

“Which means you are back here with us?” the Captain cried eagerly. Havers! Back with him! More time commanding the troops together!

“Afraid not, sir. They want me at Sandhurst2, training the men. I have a night here.”

The room pounded with the silence, and then the Captain spoke.

“I say, Havers, what I said when you left, about missing you.”

“Sir?”

“You recall the occasion, Havers?”

“Every second of it, sir.”

Havers looked saddened, but the Captain carried on.

“Yes. What I wanted to say was: think nothing of it. Please.”

Havers nodded slowly.

“If that’s all then, sir.”

Havers stood up, placed the empty teacup in the Captain’s hands, and walked to the door. But he stopped there, his hand on the bolt, his head leaning against the door. Eventually he spoke.

“Sir? Were you right? About missing me?”

“The Button House Eleven missed you, Havers, I can tell you that much!”

“Sir.”

“And the Company as a whole, _well_ , we have yet to find your equal as a second-in-command.”

“Sir.”

“And the, er, the Operation did not progress so nicely without you.”

Havers turned to face the Captain, and snapped. “Sir! With all due respect, I meant you specifically, _personally_.”

The Captain sighed and stood up, putting the teacup down, and looked at Havers, taking in every detail of him. His fingernails were short and his hands were tanned from the African sun. His hair was paler than it had been. His eyes were the same beautiful deep brown, with thick eyelashes, but the skin beside them was a little more creased. His knuckles, resting on the door, had been grazed some days previously. Yet despite all of the different things, there was a familiarity to him, which comforted the Captain.

“Yes, if you must know, I was. I missed you horribly, Havers. I did not know it at the time, but now I have you back I can see all that is better when I have you here with me. By which I mean, ehh, when I have you to command the —”

Havers let go of the door, leaving it bolted, and stepped forward into the Captain’s arms. The Captain felt his eyes widen as Havers clung onto him.

“Havers! Good lord, man. What are you doing?”

“I know it’s not proper,” Havers responded, sniffling. “I probably ought to shake your hand.”

“Yes, you ought,” said the Captain stiffly, but he found himself closing his arms around Havers.

It felt so good to be hugged. Body pressed to body, faces in each other’s shoulders, they embraced like old friends. They stood in the centre of the Captain’s office, holding each other as tightly as they could.

“I’ve missed you, sir.”

“Thank you, Havers,” said the Captain, and immediately cursed himself for it.

“You’re a good man, sir.”

“Thank you, Havers.”

Havers let go of the Captain, and stepped back. The Captain suddenly became very aware that he had new knowledge of the muscles in Havers’s chest. And they were pretty strong, and tense, and had felt wonderful pressed against the Captain’s own.

“I’d love to tell you about Africa, sir.”

“Africa?”

“Africa. But I have to go to dinner now. How about you come to my room at twenty one hundred hours, at lights out? Everyone else will be going to sleep. Best wait ten minutes or so, but just, ah, pop along and I’ll tell you all about it. I have my old room.”

“Very good, Lieutenant.”

“Sir!”

Havers saluted smartly, clicked his boots together, and went to open the door. He then realised that he still had it bolted, and laughed slightly as he undid the bolt and left. The Captain sat back down in the chair at his desk, leaned back, and smiled to himself. His hands shook with excitement, little balled-up fists bouncing at chest height, as he fought to contain his happiness. He knew that it was unreasonable, unnatural almost, to feel such joy at the return of a second-in-command. He knew he ought to appear nothing but mildly pleased. Nonetheless, as he left for dinner half an hour later, he had such a spring in his step that Gertie commented:

“You’re looking well, Captain. Anything in particular happened?”

“Just in a good mood, Gertie,” he said, crashing back down to earth and immediately closing all his emotional barriers again, triple-padlocking them. “Just in a good mood. Coming to dinner?”

“Yes, in a minute, Captain.” She continued tidying some papers, and he nodded appreciatively. She was a hard-working woman, he knew, and a great help.3

The Captain entered the officers’ mess and filled his plate with dinner. He was ravenous, but somehow couldn’t eat. Everything tasted wrong, and it was not helped by the fact that the mashed potatoes were altogether the wrong texture and had been partially mixed with the carrots. In the end, he didn’t eat much. He sat at his table, and caught Havers’s eye a few times. Havers was sitting at a table with Lieutenant Lowell and Second-Lieutenant Abbot, and kept laughing at things that Lowell was saying. The Captain felt uncomfortable, and at length he handed his plate back in, then holed himself up in his room until twenty one hundred hours.

He heard the clock strike, quickly changed into his army-issue pyjamas and brushed his teeth, and then snuck down the hall to Havers’s room, holding a candle. He knocked gently.

“Enter.”

The Captain opened the door. Havers was sitting up in bed, on top of the covers, cross-legged, in his pyjamas, with an envelope in his lap.

“Oh, Captain, it’s you,” said Havers. He leapt up, closed and bolted the door behind the Captain, and then turned to face him awkwardly. He tapped the envelope off his other hand behind his back.

“Are you going to tell me about Africa, Havers?” the Captain asked, setting the candle down.

“I confess, sir, that I have brought you here under false pretenses. I can tell you about Africa if you’d like, but I’d be very much obliged… if you’d read this first, and then tell me if it’s still Africa you want to discuss.”

He shoved the envelope into the Captain’s hands, crinkling it a little in the process, and then turned away, his face aflame with apparent embarrassment.

“Havers, I —”

“Just read it, sir. Now. I couldn’t bear it if you read it tomorrow and then we had to part before getting to talk about it properly.”

The Captain had never seen Havers so agitated, so vulnerable. Havers lay face-down on the bed as the Captain sat on the edge of it and read the letter.

The paper was soft, and had been written upon with the neat cursive which the Captain knew so well. The individual letter-forms were round and uniform, and the ink was black.

_to my Captain._

_I have a confession to make, and would be hugely grateful if you’d read to the end of this before speaking to me. I’m writing this in Africa, and I’m going to give it to you when I see you again, whenever that will be. possibly never. I’ve instructed a Corporal to send it to you, c/o Button House, if I die on the North Africa Front. but otherwise I’m going to give it to you in person._

_assuming I’m not dead when you read this, we’re probably alone in a room together, and I’m probably too embarrassed to admit anything out loud, to expose my truth out loud. so I’m doing it on paper._

_I’m a homosexual, Captain._

_there, I’ve said it. it’s terrifying to see it written on the paper. you have every right to be horrified and disgusted. you probably are. but if I’m to go away and fight in this war, potentially die in this war, I’d rather you knew the truth about me and thought ill of me for it than believed me a good man because you had been told lies about me. I’d rather you knew who I really am. you mean enough to me that I’m willing to sacrifice your good opinion of me so that you know me properly, sir._

_I’ve known I’m a homosexual for some time, since I was about seventeen, but there had never been a man I really really loved. until you, sir. I’m going to keep this bit to a bare minimum, so that this letter is not too incriminating if you bring it to the authorities. but I can’t any longer deny that I care for you greatly, in a way that I wouldn’t were I not a homosexual. I care for you as Adam for Eve, Romeo for Juliet, as Darcy for Elizabeth._

_it’s been wonderful serving under you, sir._

_yours ever —_

_Lt. Havers_

The Captain put the letter down, breathing heavily.

“God,” he said.

Havers sat up.

“Sir?”

“Yeah, I’m here, Havers.”

“And?”

The Captain turned to face Havers, and they sat on opposite sides of the bed, legs on the covers.

“What are you asking me, Havers?”

“Well, firstly, are you going to report me for gross indecency?”

“You haven’t actually been grossly indecent. I don’t think being a homosexual is a crime in itself if one doesn’t act on it.”

“If one pretends one isn’t,” Havers spat.

“Quite.”

“Are you going to tell anyone else, sir? That I’m a queer?”

The Captain sighed.

“No, Havers, I’m not. You’re a good soldier, and I wouldn’t dream of getting you discharged from the Armed Forces for a reason such as this,” said the Captain, moving the letter a little. “As far as I can see, it doesn’t affect you as a soldier. If keeping it secret means you can continue to be a military man, I would never deprive old Blighty of you.”

A small, tentative smile appeared on Havers’s face.

“And you, sir?” he asked.

“What about me, Havers?”

“Well, do you have an understanding with any young beautiful woman? Have you formed an attachment?”

“Lord no. Far too busy.”

“You do like women, then, Captain?”

“Well.” The Captain tried to smile, in an attempt to lighten the mood. “I don’t think I’d ever want to kiss one. Or to marry. But that’s just because —”

“Oh lord above, sir, are you a homosexual or not?” Havers asked, exasperated.

“I’ve never thought about it!”

“Right,” said Havers, “well, tell me, why don’t you want to kiss a woman?”

The Captain drew his face back a little, frowning. “Why _would_ I? Where would my hands go? How would I even… what?”

Havers laughed, and the Captain felt the familiar twisting in his gut which a laugh from Havers always caused. “And what if I asked you how you’d feel about kissing a man?”

“That’s not allowed,” the Captain said firmly.

“Neither is talking to each other at this hour of the night, but here you are, sir. Now I put it to you again: how would you feel about kissing a man?”

The Captain considered it. He thought about a man, a nameless faceless man, who somehow looked an awful lot like _someone_ , approaching him, embracing him, kissing him.

“I don’t want to think about it, Havers!” he said, his eyes widening.

“That’s alright,” said Havers sadly. “If you’re repulsed by the idea, you’re probably —”

“No,” whispered the Captain. “No, I like the idea, and I’m scared by that fact. I’m not a homosexual, but nonetheless I’m far from put off by the concept of kissing a man. Not that I love women, but I don’t love men in that way either, I’m sure of it. Men are beautiful, but that’s just a fact of life. _Everyone_ knows that a man with good strong arms is one of the most gorgeous —”

Havers let out a snort of laughter.

“You mock me, Lieutenant?” the Captain asked, outraged and upset.

“No,” Havers said, giggling silently into the back of his hand. His laughter seemed uncontrollable.

“What the bally hell are you laughing about, Lieutenant?”

“That’s just got to be the most roundabout way I’ve ever seen anyone say that they’re a homosexual, that’s all.”

“I’m not!”

Havers raised an eyebrow. “Sir, you know that feeling often described in novels, when one is in love? One’s pulse quickens, one feels light-headed, loses one’s train of thought, keeps looking at the person?”

“Yes.”

“Have you _ever_ felt that for a woman?”

“No,” the Captain scoffed. “I’m not some romantic —”

“Have you ever felt it for a man?”

The Captain was taken aback, but thought about it. He slowly felt horror dawn on him.

“Oh god, I’m a homosexual,” he said.

Havers bit back a laugh. “I think that might be just possible, yes.”

“Oh god. I’ve felt that for a man, Havers,” the Captain said, and the other nodded. “Havers, I’ve felt it for _you_.”

Havers stopped laughing, and was sincere. He stared into the Captain’s eyes, and the Captain winced at the eye contact, but did not break it.

“You what, mate?” Havers asked.

“I… that feeling you described… that’s how I’ve felt about you since about a month after you came to Button House… Havers, I… I feel that every time I see you… oh god, that’s why I was so happy when you came back!”

“You return my feelings, sir?” Havers asked slowly.

“I rather suspect I do, yes,” the Captain said awkwardly.

“You know you said you rather liked the idea of kissing a man?” Havers asked, his gaze glued to the bedcovers.

“I did say that.”

“Want to try it out?” Havers mumbled.

“What, right now?” the Captain asked.

“I bolted the door behind you for a reason.”

“Always the strategic thinker,” the Captain said, and he saw Havers smile to himself. “Yeah, go on then, alright.”

“Permission granted, is it, sir?”

“Absolutely, Lieutenant.”

Havers moved closer to the Captain. “How are we doing this, then, sir?”

“It’s pretty straightforward, as far as I’m aware,” the Captain said blankly.

“Do you want to stay sitting up like this? Or I can have you lying down if you’d like,” Havers offered, “so I don’t have to catch you if you faint at it.”

“I’m fine like this,” the Captain said stiffly.

He was prepared for a kiss. What he was not prepared for was for Havers to quite literally clamber into his lap for it. He took a while, too, playing with the Captain’s hair and grinning as he threaded his fingers through it, teasing the knots out gently.

“Are you doing this or not, Havers?” he asked impatiently.

“Just leading up to it, sir,” said Havers. He leaned in until his mouth was at the Captain’s ear, and whispered, “I love you.”

The Captain knew he was supposed to say the same back, or flirt, or something, but he was unable to do anything other than collapse with happy tears, wrapping his arms around Havers.

“Oh, no,” said Havers. “No, sir, let’s get you calmed down. Come on.” 

He lowered the Captain onto his back in the middle of the bed, and then lay down beside him, on his front. Havers soothed the Captain as he calmed down, stroking the bridge of his nose softly with an outstretched finger. The Captain turned and looked at Havers, once he’d stopped crying. Havers was smiling demurely.

“You _want_ me on my back, don’t you?” the Captain asked.

“I confess I’m attracted to you like this,” Havers told him, grinning.

“I thought you were attracted to me anyway.”

“I _am_ ,” Havers sighed, “but you’re fucking stunning like this. On your back, in bed.”

“Bugger off,” the Captain said, responding with milder expletives. “Or hurry up with this. I don’t mind which it is, but you’re driving me nuts with the waiting.”

“Sorry,” Havers said. He shrugged, then leaned over and kissed the Captain.

It was soft, and a little wet; the Captain realised that Havers had been crying too. Havers was gentle, allowing the Captain to get used to it. Eventually, the Captain tilted his chin up, lifting his head, to get deeper into the kiss. Havers tasted of the Navy Cut4 cigarettes he occasionally smoked, and which the Captain liked so much, and the Captain could feel the little notch in Havers’s lower lip from being hit in the face with a cricket ball. They pulled back after a bit, and the Captain felt his heart racing, hammering against his ribcage with all the force of a stampeding elephant.

“Someone’s excited,” Havers said appreciatively, sitting up to unbutton the shirt of his pyjamas, and taking in how the Captain looked, giving him a quick once-over, eyes sliding down his body and then back up.

“Yeah,” the Captain admitted. “Well, breaking news, I’m definitely a homosexual. I’m sure of that now.”

“Happy to help,” Havers laughed, pulling his shirt off. “Sorry, I’m quite warm. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Not… not at all.”

“Mmhm. You alright with this?” he asked, straddling the Captain and caressing his cheekbone with a thumb. The Captain hesitantly put a hand on Havers’s thigh.

“God yes. Just mind your leg. You did get shot.”

Havers covered the Captain’s hand with his own and laughed. (Cue the twisting gut again.) “Shall we get back to it?”

“Sounds good.”

They kissed for some more time, sitting up briefly so that Havers could remove the Captain’s shirt too and then lying down again, Havers on top of the Captain.

“You really _do_ like me, don’t you?” Havers giggled, tracing his finger along the Captain’s chest.

“Well, yes.”

“I wonder how much of an effect I have on you.”

“A significant one,” the Captain said dismissively, impatient. “Come on, can you kiss me again please?”

“Yeah, okay,” Havers said, “but do you love me?”

“Of course I do.”

“That gets you a kiss.”

And it did.

“Tell me more, and you’ll get more,” Havers said cheekily.

The Captain grinned, and stroked the hair on the side of Havers’s head with the palm of his hand. “You’re a rotten flirt. Okay, yes, I love you. You’re handsome.”

“Am I?” said Havers, smiling. He kissed the Captain, making it last a while. “Oh, and you were wrong, by the way. I have been grossly indecent.”

“Well, you have _now_. And so have I.”

“No, before. In Africa. And it went a lot further than this.”

“What, a man made love to you?” the Captain asked.

Havers leaned forwards, his forearms on the Captain’s chest. “I made love to several men.”

“Sorry.”

“What for?” Havers asked, sitting up, still astride the Captain, and throwing his hands in the air.

“This is probably nothing compared to that.”

“You’re wrong, sir. This is more than any of those men in Africa, because this is you, and while I was to some extent attracted to the men over there, none of them were you and that is a major failing on their part. Besides, when I was with those men, all I could really think about was that I’d rather be here in England kissing you than making sweet love to them in the sweaty heat of Africa.”

“You’d rather a kiss from me than… sex… from other men?” asked the Captain, his brain mainly occupied in processing the fact that Havers had thought of him while _sinning_.

“I’m the one who kisses you, and I’m the one who fucked them. But yes.”

“And is kissing as far as you want to go with me?” the Captain ventured.

“Depends on what you’re up for,” Havers said casually. “I’d fuck you if you asked.”

“You’d sleep with me?” the Captain asked in a hushed voice.

“God, you’re so uptight,” Havers laughed. (Gut twist.) “Yes, Captain, I would _sleep_ with you.”

“Fucking hell,” the Captain breathed.

“Heaven, I’d hope,” Havers flirted, looking away.

“Not if you don’t get on with it and kiss me again,” the Captain complained, running a hand up and down Havers’s bare back, and along the firm muscles in his side.

“Fine,” Havers said, smiling at him.

When Havers leaned back in and kissed him, the Captain felt it in his groin, the tautness of longing, of desire. He grunted a little, and moved his legs, when Havers pulled back.

“Havers, for the love of god don’t stop. This is heaven. It is bliss like I’ve never felt before.”

“Sorry sir, I need a breather. And now I’m cold too.”

“Put your bally shirt back on then,” the Captain said, disappointed.

“Or we could just get under the covers?”

“God, you sly minx, Havers. _Yes_. Under the covers it is.”

They climbed off the bed to untuck the covers from the mattress, and then got into the bed and lay down, facing each other. It had the potential to be a thoroughly steamy scene, the Captain knew, but he found himself just hugging Havers.

“You want to take it easy for a bit?” Havers asked, stroking the Captain’s face gently. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not into or don’t want to do.”

“I want to spend the night with you. I can sneak back to my room in the morning,” the Captain whispered. “But we could be fucking or sleeping, and I wouldn’t care, so long as I spend this night in your company.”

“What do you want to do?” Havers asked.

“I want you to know I love you.”

“Oh, Captain, I do know.”

“I never showed you I love you.”

“Show me now then. Nothing stopping you. Just tell me and I will know.”

The Captain shook his head, burying his face in Havers’s chest and wrapping his arms and legs around Havers desperately. He moved his head, and Havers tucked his own chin on top of it lovingly.

“Too scared, Lieutenant.”

“Too scared?”

“Too scared to tell you all the things I feel for you, everything I want to do with you. How much you mean to me.”

“Captain, shh. It is alright.”

“No, Havers, I love you and I am going to tell you. But can you bear with me? It will take a while.”

“Of course. We have all night. For as long as we can stay awake, I will listen to you.”

The Captain was quiet for a time, gathering his thoughts and also enjoying the sensation of the stubble of his Lieutenant on his forehead.

“Alright. I love you because you care for me when I get panicked. When I become too overwhelmed, you step in and help me. But you never make it look like it is you doing the orders really. And because you are kind to everyone. I can hardly explain why but I love you _so_ much.”

“I know, love. I know.”

“Thank you.”

“Anything.”

The Captain let their foreheads rest together for a minute, and then smiled.

“We have one night before you go to Sandhurst. What do you say we, ehh, make it count?”

Havers grinned, his face lighting up.

“What are you thinking, sir?”

“Anything.”

“Come on, I am utterly happy to oblige, but you have to give me something to work with here.”

“Kiss me then. Touch me. Make love to me. Show me what men can do to please each other. I want to know. I want to feel it. Lord above, Havers, I want _you_.”

“Well,” said Havers, “I can work with that.”

He reached a hand around and hooked the back of the Captain’s knee, pulling him in, and kissed him hard. They kissed, joined at their mouths, breathing quickly. Havers gently but firmly put one of his legs between the Captain’s, pushing against his crotch. As they moved, embraced, clung onto each other, they could feel the sheets against their bare backs and sides. The Captain found himself making quite an inordinate amount of noise as Havers ran his hands along the Captain’s body.

“Well, _you_ know what you’re doing,” he mumbled, embarrassed, when Havers stopped kissing him briefly to catch his breath. “Are you sure this isn’t too tame for you? We can have intercourse if you like, you know.”

“Captain, when will you learn that I just want to be with you and love and respect you?”

“Probably never.”

“Well, I have no need for sex if you do not want it. I only want to please you and make you happy. But, because we are illegal right now, I ask you to keep it down a bit with the moaning. I love you, and it definitely awakens something in me to hear you make noises like that, but I would rather nobody caught us shagging. We could literally be shot for it.”

“Havers, I’m not sure you really do want to, ahem, shag me. You don’t know if you want me.”

“Oh, of course I do. With all due respect, shut up, sir.”

“Make me.”

The words were out of his mouth before the Captain had time to compute them. He was taken aback, startled by himself, and a little scared. But one glance at Havers and the look on his face made it all better. Havers was grinning madly, shaking his head a bit. His hair was loose across his face; he was beautiful, disheveled and blushing, and was biting down hard on his lower lip.

“You rotten beautiful handsome _darling_ flirt. Fucking _hell_ , you turn me on, more than anyone else I ever knew. Now if you have no objection I would rather like to put my hands down your trousers.”

The Captain felt his eyes widen, and the sharp feeling in his groin intensified as Havers, who technically ranked lower, took charge. “No objection at all, Lieutenant. I would rather appreciate if you got on with it, in fact.”

Havers was as good as his word, and by god was it good. He kissed the Captain all the while, mumbling reassurances to him, his hands still whenever the Captain squirmed a little. He constantly checked if the Captain was alright. The Captain found that his long-lasting obsession with Havers’s beautiful slender hands was only intensified when those fingers were on him, and when those knuckles, still grazed, kept brushing his inner thigh. They kissed the night away, and more. The Captain tried to return the hands-down-trousers favour, but had no idea what to do, so Havers took the Captain’s hands in his own, brought them up to his mouth, and kissed the knuckles, before telling the Captain that there was no need. Gratified, the Captain tilted his head back, his hands gripping the headboard of the bed behind him, as Havers kissed his neck. Havers gave a brief giggle into the Captain’s collarbone. No fewer than five minutes later, things had escalated and both sets of trousers were on the floor. They were kissing fiercely, hands wandering under the covers. Occasionally, Havers would take the Captain’s hand in his own and give it a brief squeeze for encouragement, before getting back to what he was doing. The Captain was trying awfully hard to please Havers, by feeling Havers’s torso and so on, but kept getting very very distracted by the pleasure Havers was in turn bringing to him, and by the thick, glorious heat pooling like honey in his groin.

“Oh god, Havers, hurry up,” he whined, twisting his fingers through his Lieutenant’s hair.

“I must say, Captain, I have slept with a lot of men and I have never seen one so desperate to finish the night with me as you are.”

“I just really fucking love you,” the Captain said quietly. He was thoroughly prepared to be romantic mid-sexual-encounter, but then Havers touched him one final time and he was gone. “ _God_ , Havers!”

Havers bit his lip to keep in a burst of laughter. “Honestly, Captain, one would think you’re a virgin, looking at how easy to please you are.” He saw the Captain’s silent raised eyebrow, and shook his head. “No way, sir! _Never_? Really?”

The Captain finished taking a long time to calm down from his euphoria, then sighed awkwardly. “Never. Is that a bad thing? Does it make me bad, ahem, in bed? Would you prefer if I had experience? What implications does it have for how you feel about me? I swear I’m not prudish or frigid or anything.”

“You never got further than a kiss before?” Havers asked incredulously.

“I never even was kissed before,” the Captain said. He watched Havers, who had turned to lie on his back and was staring up at the ceiling, holding the Captain’s hand.

“Captain, I am honoured to be your first kiss, and you _are_ prudish, but I love you for it. I was merely surprised, that nobody has made enough of a move with you before me for you to accept it. Your virginity appears to have no negative affect on how attractive you are in bed with me, looking at the evidence of how incredibly aroused I have become, and certainly it has no implication for my relationship with you. You hardly think I could be desperately, hopelessly and witheringly in love with a man for three years and then forget about him just because he happens to have never been fucked before?”

“Why do you assume I would be on the receiving end?” the Captain asked, giving Havers a quick kiss on the lips daringly.

“It would not take a genius to know _that_ , sir,” Havers said drily.

“Hey!” the Captain said, grinning.

“Shh!” Havers hissed urgently. “You do understand how important it is that we do not get caught?”

“Yes,” said the Captain, pretending to be paying attention to the words, rather than the body, of the naked Lieutenant who was suddenly lying on top of him.

“Almost makes it more romantic though,” Havers mused. “You know, having to pause to listen for noise, in the middle of a —”

“Yes, _thank_ you,” the Captain interrupted, embarrassed, staring at Havers’s biceps. “But how is that romantic?”

“You _know_ ,” Havers said. He stopped talking for about thirty seconds and kissed the Captain decadently, bringing his tongue into the kiss, then stopped kissing and continued. “It’s romantic because it’s Romantic, with a capital letter. It’s a romanticised ideal. Loving someone so much you’re willing to do it with them silently, holding your breaths and barely making a sound, in the middle of a fucking Army base. Well, not really a base. But it is full of men of the Armed Forces. I’m so in love with you that I’m utterly prepared to get out my… okay _fine_ I won’t say it, darling… for you when we could be caught.”

“I don’t think I’m great at the bit where we barely make a sound,” the Captain admitted.

Havers laughed. “No, you’re not, darling. And it’s hot as fuck. I _love_ it when you make those noises.”

“Give me reason to make them again, then,” the Captain said shyly.

“Ooh, you slick bastard,” said Havers. “What are you thinking?”

The Captain took a deep breath, scooched a little closer so he could speak into Havers’s ear. “What we just did — well, what you did to me… with your hands… that — it was glorious, but could we maybe go a bit further, please? Can we have sex?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” Havers said, his eyes glinting. “Come here, then, my love.”

And he proceeded to… well, fulfil the Captain’s wishes!

Nonetheless, they eventually were worn out, and settled down for the night, in each other’s arms. They wound their legs together, and sleepily nuzzled into each other’s chests. Kisses were placed on foreheads, and gently pressed to red-marked necks.

Really?

The Captain bolted upright in bed.

“Havers!”

He was disoriented, and started loudly panicking. Within minutes, his room was crowded.

“You alright there?” Pat asked.

“Havers. Havers. Where is he?”

“Who?” Pat asked, confused.

“ _Havers_ ,” the Captain repeated, continuing to look for him.

“Oh, your Lieutenant?” Thomas asked. “You _were_ rather fond of him in life.”

“Thomas,” Alison snapped. “Captain, are you alright?”

“Where is Havers?”

“He went to Africa, Captain. He left for the front. Remember? You told me,” she said softly.

And by then the Captain was awake enough to have realised. Havers was not a homosexual. He had never even come back from Africa. They had not kissed, and nor had they done more than that. The Captain was a ghost.

“I thought I saw him,” he said blankly. “I apologise, troops. I must have been dreaming. Please forget everything I said.”

“Are you sure, mate?” Pat asked. “You want to talk about it?”

“No, but there is something else I rather ought to say. To you all. Something long overdue.”

Julian laughed obnoxiously. “Is it that you’re a bender?”

“Julian!” Alison yelled. “Either apologise for using a slur like that, or fuck off right now!”

“Okay, okay! Sorry! Calm _down_. Not as if I’m straight anyway, but we all knew that.”

“He’s right,” said the Captain slowly. “I am a homosexual.”

Julian interrupted again. “And your dream helped you realise? Ha! Pretty _nice_ dream, Captain.”

Alison spoke slowly. “Julian, I am warning you. Stop being a fuckwad, or no computer games.”

Julian rolled his eyes, but shut up. The Captain cleared his throat again.

“I am a homosexual. I have realised this. And I felt a certain way for Havers. That is all.”

They looked at him, and he felt like curling up into a ball. He’d always hated scrutiny, but it was worse when he’d just revealed his innermost secret, that he’d only realised himself a very short time previously. He could see Lady Button narrowing her eyes, Kitty smiling gently, Robin staring at the ground, Julian already concocting some crude joke about what men did to each other. The Captain felt simultaneously lightheaded and very very heavy. It was going to be awful. He had kept up a good, respectable reputation for something like seventy years, and it was all ruined by one throwaway remark about Havers. Havers. Havers. Havers who the Captain would never see again. Havers who was in all likelihood dead, without ever knowing how the Captain felt.

“Question,” said Mary. “Is that why you was always staring at the man with the metal cow?”

“Adam?” the Captain asked, snapping out of his trance and laughing incredulously. “No, wait. Hang on. Yeah, that was why. But he was nothing compared to Havers. Havers was a good man, and a soldier. He worked so hard.”

“So did Adam,” Thomas said.

“Nobody will ever compare to Havers.”

The Captain lay down sulkily, facing away from the others, so that they would be unable to see him crying at the thought of the dream he had had. It could have happened, too, if he had only been a little braver. Easy to say that when dead, he supposed.

He was ashamed of himself for it, but the lingering image of Havers not wearing very much was very strong and _very_ attractive.

He recalled all the things he had imagined them doing. All the things he had never done in life, and never would in death.

He wanted Havers to hug him. He loved the image of Havers kneeling before him, but would have given any amount of sexual delights away to just embrace Havers, to be embraced by him and have those strong arms around his shoulders and to have a chest in which to bury his face.

He spoke, his face in a pillow.

“Alison, would you be able to look up Lieutenant Havers with your telephone? I would greatly appreciate any information on his fate.”

“Yeah, course, Captain. Right on it.”

The Captain stayed still as Alison did the research.

“Well?” he asked after a few minutes.

“Okay, well, I have found something. Not sure whether it’s the same guy though. Must have been more than one bloke called Havers in the British army. Lieutenant, went to Africa in 1940, used to play cricket. Oh, wait, they have a photo of him. This him?”

Alison held her phone out, turning it around. The Captain bolted upright and looked at the screen. It _was_ Havers, and it was a photo the Captain had never seen before. Havers was grinning, and the photo was a little overexposed, so he looked ethereal. He was not wearing his jacket in the photo, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows. He held a bottle of drink.

“Yes.”

“Okay, hang on while I check out the rest of the information.”

Alison turned her phone back around to read it.

“He never married.”

“Alright.”

Then there was a silence.

“Oh, god. Captain, I’m so, _so_ sorry.”

“What? What?”

Alison grimaced. “He died two weeks after arriving in Africa. He was shot in the chest by an Italian bullet.”

The idea of a bullet entering that beautiful, firm, strong chest and ripping out the soul of the man within was too much for the Captain.

“Why the _fuck_?” he said quietly. “He was the best person I ever knew. He was so good. I should have told him not to go.”

“Captain,” said Alison. “There is some more information here. It may hurt you, but will give you some of the truth about Havers. Do you want to know it?”

The Captain considered.

“Yes.”

“A few days before he died, he was caught having sex with another Lieutenant. They were planning to give him a discharge from the Armed Forces.”

“If I may,” said Thomas, “I am well versed in the art of recognising sodomites. I highly suspected your Havers was one, from his behaviour to you. But now we know he is, I can say for certain he was in love with you.”

“What makes you say that?” the Captain scoffed.

“You know he carried around a drawing of you? In the inside breast pocket of his army jacket. He drew it himself, one day at dinner. You were too busy to notice, as was everyone else. It _was_ a beautiful picture.”

“He loved me.”

It ached. It ached in his chest.

“Are you a little happier now?” Thomas asked.

“No! It is the same as you and Isabelle!” the Captain snapped in reply.

“Ouch.”

“Precisely.”

“Thomas,” Kitty said suddenly, “would that be the pretty little drawing in brown ink that he did on a bit of lined paper?”

Thomas nodded slowly.

“He left that in the house. Under a floorboard in this room, because it was the office,” Kitty said.

There was the obvious immediate scramble to find it, with everyone shouting at Alison, and it was procured. A small package of string and brown paper was found. It contained many bits of paper. They opened it slowly, together.

The top one was the drawing in question. It was a stunning sketch of the Captain, and it caught his gentle masculine beauty. In the picture, he was writing something with a fountain pen, and looked lost in thought. Havers had made the Captain’s biceps push a tiny bit against his shirt (for his jacket was slung over the chair, also very prettily drawn), and it was clearly drawn by someone who was attracted to the Captain.

There was an inscription on the back, in the rounded cursive hand the Captain knew so well.

_my Captain, being a beautiful and exemplary CO. drawn by Lt Havers, dec 1939_

“He called me ‘beautiful’.”

Alison nodded; the Captain felt like crying.

“The other bits of paper,” the Captain said urgently.

The next was a photo of two officers, their arms around each other, holding a cricket bat each. Havers and the Captain.

Kitty spoke. “That was the Button House Eleven. Look, he must have torn the rest of the picture off. There _were_ other people in it.”

Again, Havers had written on the back.

_me and Captain. afraid I quite destroyed his feeble attempt at pitching the ball, by use of my cover drive. wonderful game. drank Irish whiskey in his office afterwards._

“He never did bother with capitals at the start of sentences,” the Captain said fondly.

“ _Did_ you get drunk with him?” Alison asked.

“Yes. But he was rather more drunk than I was; I was barely tipsy. He was a very sweet drunk. Became incredibly clingy and just wanted a hug.”

The next piece of paper was not a drawing. The top half of it was covered in calculations, and the bottom half had a scrawled Note to Self.

 _he smiled at me today. it was stunning. he really does teach the torches to burn bright_ 5 _. when he starts smiling from a neutral expression, he goes from a standard beauty to an Eros among men in .5 of a second. o Captain my Captain, why are you so fucking gorgeous???_

The next was a typed letter, smudged from being folded soon after being typed. Alison scanned it quickly with her eyes.

“Yeah, I think this one is a bit private.”

She held it out to the Captain, who read it, his face heating up with every word.

_fucking hell, Captain._

_you are beautiful. sometimes when I drift off to sleep I imagine that you are lying with me. I really wish I had the humility to be embarrassed by what I think of you, but I confess I was very very glad I happened to have my legs crossed when you wandered in shirtless after cricket the other day. you were a sweaty mess, but you had just spent a lot of time working very hard and that is an incredibly attractive thing in a man. and I know you are getting on a little bit, but so am I and for a man of your years I must say your abdominal muscles are very well defined. not that I was looking._

_and not that I thought of your body that night and touched myself a little bit._

_should I be ashamed of how delighted I am, how delighted my animal instincts are, how delighted my very body is, by your physique? perhaps. yet I am not._

_in my thoughts I make love to you all day long._ 6

_do not think me a simple creature of carnal desire only. your sweet personality, combined with how flustered you become at the slightest mention of intercourse, makes me fall in love all over again every day. I have written that enough times, though. now I have new things to write._

_I want to fuck you. I want to pin you against a wall with my hips and stick my tongue down your throat. I want to see you totally disrobed and I want to be in the same state and grab you and press my body to yours. I want to shove my hands up your shirt and kiss you until you are worn out from it and you just collapse in my arms. I want to do it with you, on your desk, and rearrange your fucking insides via sex. (all of the above only with your agreement of course.) you arouse something in me that makes me think of you, with me, in bed. I fucking wish that we could do it. I would absolutely ravish you if you wanted._

_or I could kiss you tenderly to the sounds of a romantic waltz. anything for the sweet prince of my dreams._

_love you._

_PS: bloody wish I could send this!_

“Good lord,” the Captain said. Julian and Thomas were craning their necks to see, so he jerked his head to indicate to Alison that she could show them. They read it quickly, and Kitty stood on tiptoes to read it too. Their expressions were wide-eyed. The Captain nodded awkwardly.

“Would you have let him do those things to you?” Thomas asked.

The Captain smacked him on the back of the head, and they hurriedly moved on to the next thing.

It was another photograph. Havers and the Captain both had empty shot glasses in their hands, and were sitting on the sofa together, arms around each other. Their faces were red (or appeared to be; the picture was of course in black and white), and they were laughing.

“I do not remember that,” the Captain said forcefully. “I tended not to drink with my men, for exactly that reason. Best not to allow my morals to get too loose.”

He coughed.

“Yeah, well, Havers has something to say about it,” said Alison. And he did. It was written on the back again.

_the Capt is so very silly when drunk. a lightweight if ever I saw one! someone found some Russian vodka tucked away somewhere, and we all got absolutely hammered. I just wish he was able to be fond of me when sober, too._

“Oh god, poor Havers,” the Captain said.

Next there was a letter in a different hand: an immaculate copperplate. The ink was a deep black, and the lines of writing were not straight, but rather wiggled up and down all over the page.

_Havers, old boy,_

_I apologise for my behaviour at dinner the other night. It was wrong of me to laugh so loudly at your joke, even though it was quite funny. It drew attention towards me which was bad. I hope you know that I never mean you any harm. With every ounce of respect_

_Your commanding officer._

Havers had written a note below the letter.

_my heart skipped a beat when you laughed at what I said. I love you._

Havers had several more sketches of the Captain; and a few more samples of his writing, mostly just bits of paper on which the Captain had scrawled instructions for the men, or cricket tactics, or a shopping list. There were more letters written by Havers, detailing that he would like to kiss the Captain. Finally, there was a poem.

_AN ODE TO THE LOVE OF A SOLDIER_

_a soldier should love his Captain;_

_he should care for his country too._

_so why is it that though I came for the War,_

_I find that I stay for you?_

_I would have left, gone and taught,_

_I’d have never remained to fight._

_you showed me the wonder of living in peace;_

_you showed me the love of the night._

_the Love of the Night I would share with you,_

_if I had your permission not to be_

_a coward; I know that that I now am_

_but I could be shot, for being me._

_I care for you, do I ever!_

_I thought that that would be clear;_

_you occupy my every thought_

_because I love you, my dear._

“He writes well,” Thomas said. “I’m impressed. You have good taste.”

The Captain put his hand over his mouth, ignoring Thomas and staring at the poem. 

“Havers,” he gasped.

“Captain, you alright?” Alison asked.

“Yes, fine. Absolutely fine.”

“You want to talks about it?” Mary asked.

“And what would you know?” he retorted.

“Captain, there were so many girls I loved and never gave kisses to,” Mary insisted. “I understands.”

The Captain looked up. He felt himself shaking.

“It just _hurts_. So much more than I could have imagined. I will never get to kiss him. It’s not just oh well, next time, you can always try again. Because I can’t. He’s dead. Maybe he’s a ghost somewhere. No use to me if he is. And he never knew. I would have run away from the apocalypse and straight into a bonfire with him if he’d asked, but he never knew because I was too much of a bloody coward to tell him or even to tell myself but I don’t know how I didn’t see it.”

Alison had found something in the space under the floorboard. She brought it up and placed it on the bedside table. It was, battered but in good condition and by no means empty, a pack of Navy Cut cigarettes.

“Oh, lord.”

At his request, Alison found an ashtray, lit one of the cigarettes, and left it in the ashtray on the Captain’s bedside table. The others left slowly, and he lay there, breathing in the scent of the man he loved.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. These were rationed starting in August 1942, so we have two explanations. Either (a) the Captain has no biscuit because rationing but is flustered by Havers and so forgets this, or (b) the Captain genuinely has a biscuit, rare because rationing, and is willing to give it to Havers. back
> 
> 2\. A military training academy in Berkshire county, England. back
> 
> 3\. She’s of no significance plot-wise. I just wanted to recognise the women who worked in these places in the War. back
> 
> 4\. I just looked up soldiers’ cigarettes in WW2. back
> 
> 5\. Romeo accuses Juliet of this too. back
> 
> 6\. This line is taken from a letter in “Atonement” by Ian McEwan. The film of that is good too, actually. back


End file.
